


Wrong

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An unusual stranger walks into Novac and helps Boone get his revenge, for a price





	

**Author's Note:**

> quick fic for a prompt on the nfkm

Something feels wrong when Boone spots the strange man through the scope of his rifle, limping up the road to Novac. Almost doesn't see him at first, so well-concealed by the dark; usually he's the only thing awake for miles around by now, everything else having fallen still and silent hours ago. But the device on the man's arm catches the reflection of the town lights and grabs Boone's attention, makes him take aim. His finger tenses on the trigger as he studies the stranger's approach through his scope, examining him more closely. Judging by the state of the man's clothes Boone guesses he was caught by a mine, took some shrapnel to the leg and tore some chunks out of his leather armor. Still, Boone keeps him in his crosshairs until he staggers past the dinosaur, heading to Doc Straus for patching up no doubt.   
  
Late night travelers are always suspicious to him, but there's something different about this one, something that sets him on edge, leaves him thinking and guessing as to the traveler's origins, his intentions. Nipton lay in the direction he'd been coming from, and Boone had seen the smoke on the horizon, heard the rumors about the town going silent. He grinds his teeth together, trying not to let his thoughts go down that path, trying to keep paranoia from dragging him away from his post to follow the stranger around town.  
  
Still, a restless feeling straddles his chest, his shoulders stand tense and the grip on his gun winds painfully tight, even as the end of his shift approaches and the first breath of pale blue begins to glow on the horizon, the first of the crows cawing their greetings to the sun.  
  
It's this tension that makes him nearly pull the trigger when he turns to leave and suddenly sees the stranger standing there, one hand still resting on the doorknob. Must have kept it turned when he opened it and slid the door closed before letting it latch, in order to keep Boone from hearing. Could have been standing there for half an hour -since Boone's last break-, without him noticing.  
  
Fucking creep.  
  
Handsome though, creep or no, and when their gazes meet Boone stops for a moment, struck by the large, fathomless eyes and the nice shape of his lips, curled into just the slightest of smiles. Something welcoming about that face, something that makes him want to know about the man who wears it.  
  
"Didn't mean to spook you," says the man, tone casual like he's offering Boone a drink and hadn't just snuck up behind him in the wee hours of the morning. "Just admiring the view. Thought I shouldn't distract you from your watch."  
  
Boone narrows his eyes behind his sunglasses, but takes his hand off the trigger and rests it against the guard instead. Asks what brings the stranger to town.  
  
"Just needed my leg patched up. Not planning to stay long, though." The man leaves a pause after his words, politely waiting for a reply. When Boone offers none, he hums something that isn’t quite a laugh, then motions as if to leave.  
  
"Wait," Boone starts, stopping the stranger in his tracks. "Maybe you shouldn't go, not just yet."  
  
Doesn't understand why he asks this man to help, especially given the weird vibe surrounding him, but he does, and the man accepts without question. The faint smile on his lips not faltering, even as Boone hands him his beret and asks once again if he's sure he just nods agreeably and pulls the door to the stairway open.  
  
The man pauses in the doorway and says without looking back, "Name's Six, by the way."  
  
Boone opens his mouth to offer his name in return, but then the door latch clicks quietly shut, cutting him off.  
   
The next night, he hesitates for a moment when he sees Six standing in front of the dinosaur with Manny. That feeling of wrongness knawing at him once again as he takes aim and peers down at Manny's grinning face through the scope. His gut pulling at him as he curls his finger around the trigger.  
  
Still, with one shaking exhale, he takes the shot. A small spattering of red catches on the front of Six's armor, but he doesn’t seem to notice, just rolls on his heels and saunters away from the scene of the crime.

Afterwards, Six knocks once before entering the dinosaur's mouth. He hands the beret back to Boone and smooths his fingers through his dirty-blond hair, then lights up a cigarette as Boone sets his rifle aside and secures the beret back on his own head. Neither one says anything at first, standing in silence but for the sound of Six's breathing as he exhales stream after stream of smoke. It feels strange, like Six is studying him for a reaction. He supposes he should say something, but struggles to come up with the right words.  
  
Six slips a hand into the pocket of his leather pants, then casually offers him a scrap of paper, like it's a dollar bill he'd found on the ground. Boone takes it and then stares blankly at it, unable to process the messily-scrawled words on the page. Unable to believe them.  
  
_We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Manny Vargas of the township of Novac the exclusive rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone for the sum of one thousand bottle caps, and those of her unborn child for the sum of five hundred bottlecaps_  
  
A neat tear along the bottom edge indicates that the rest is missing. But it's enough. The paper crumples in his fist and he lets it fall to the floor, his ears ringing. He knew. Somehow he knew. But he still can't believe-  
  
Six clears his throat, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
"So, about my payment..." He starts to say, and Boone reaches numbly into his pocket, fishing for caps before Six raises a hand. "I don't need your money." He leans against the door frame and butts out his cigarette on the wall beside it, flicking the burnt filter to the floor.  
  
Boone frowns, confused and biting back a twinge of annoyance. Six locks gazes with him, eyes glinting lasciviously beneath his eyelashes as he lowers his hand to his belt.  
  
Oh.  
  
Six cocks an eyebrow, silently pressing this request. Boone swallows past the lump forming in his throat, his mind struggling to find purchase in the midst of all that’s just happened. Uneasiness and shock forming a sort of haze that he can’t quite see through.  
  
Perhaps he owes this man for bringing him the information of his friend’s betrayal, and for helping him with his subsequent revenge but- this he’s not quite sure about. After all, it’s not as though he’d offered Six any payment up front, and the idea of whoring himself out for information feels dirty. Feels wrong.  
  
On the other hand, he normally wouldn't be opposed to getting lucky with a handsome stranger...  
  
Fuck it.  
  
Unsteadily, he steps across the wooden floor to where Six is leaning, his mind lagging behind his actions.  
  
"Shirt off," orders Six. And Boone obeys, grabbing the hem of his threadbare t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Moving slowly without being told to.  
  
His dog tags jingle quietly, falling against his bare chest as he tosses the shirt to the floor. When he looks up at Six again, he's nodding approvingly. Those huge eyes slowly dragging across every inch of his chest and down his abs, appraising him. Boone’s face goes hot, and has to stop himself from crossing his arms self-consciously against the scrutinizing gaze. To fight the urge, he folds his arms behind his back and holds himself ramrod straight, like he’s back in the NCR standing before his commanding officer.

Closing the remaining distance between them, Six places a hand on his shoulder, warm, calloused fingers trailing over the muscle there. He relaxes beneath the touch, relishing the sensation of physical contact after such a long time. For a moment Boone hopes that Six might lean in and kiss him with those gorgeous lips. Instead, the man presses his thumb to Boone’s collarbone, palm pressing hard against the top of his shoulder as he shoves Boone onto his knees.  
  
The floor feels harder than it usually does, small rocks on the wood surface bite into his knees through his cargoes. He shifts his weight, trying to ease the discomfort, feeling the floorboards creak beneath his weight as he does. Good thing the gift shop is empty right now, he thinks. Eye-level with Six’s waist, he watches one hand unfasten his belt, feeling the other move to rest against the back of his neck.  
  
Boone reaches up and helps divest Six of his pants and boxers, their hands working together to push the garments down his thighs until his cock is freed. Boone swallows thickly and looks up at Six, sees him looking back, his lips moving, saying something that Boone doesn’t quite catch. Then the hand on his neck presses him forward encouragingly.  
  
Slowly, he leans forward and licks experimentally along the underside of Six's shaft. Tasting, breathing in Six’s scent, hearing the resulting sharp intake of breath, urging him on. Boone pulls back slightly, then takes him properly into his mouth, sucking gently at the head.  
  
" _Fuck..._ " breathes Six, "You're good at this." The praise makes something coil in Boone's stomach. He feels Six’s other hand grasp his shoulder, fingertips curling into the muscle there, nails biting into flesh until he finds himself shuddering.   
  
Boone takes Six deeper into his throat, swallowing around him, eliciting a quiet groan. He bobs his head slowly, hand roaming downwards to palm himself through his pants, moaning around Six’s cock until the other man to thrusts slightly into his mouth, sounding his approval with a heavy grunt.  
  
"Touch yourself," demands Six, his voice too breathy and far away for it to sound like an order. "I wanna see you come."  
  
Boone is happy to oblige, he unzips himself, reaches into his pants to withdraw his own aching dick, shuddering as he closes his fist around it. He tries to match the pace of his hand to the rhythm of his mouth, jerking himself off in time with each dip of his head, each tilt of Six’s hips.  
  
Abruptly, Six grasps him roughly by the back of the head and thrusts hard into Boone's mouth, and Boone sighs approvingly at the sensation of nails into his scalp. Six begins fucking Boone’s face with abandon, grunting each time he hits the back of his throat. Boone struggles not to gag, saliva leaking down his chin as he swallows every inch. In turn, Boone quickens the movements of his hand, feeling himself nearing the edge, precum leaking from the tip of his cock.  
  
It only takes a few more thrusts before Six growls loudly and spills his seed across Boone's tongue, the last few droplets spattering against his lips as Six withdraws.  
  
Boone doesn't need to be told to swallow, and the slimy, salty taste brings his own climax crashing down on him. With a few final strokes, he finishes with a strangled grunt, painting the floor with come. He leans back on his knees, eyesight going blank as his cock twitches in his hand.  
  
Once he recovers from the static overwhelming his vision, he looks up and locks eyes with Six, who's smirking down at him, still breathing hard.  
  
"Let's do that again sometime.”

Boone nods absently, everything that just transpired suddenly catching up with him, leaving him reeling again. Suddenly he feels out of sync with what's around him. Like he had been absent for some time now and just returned to find himself kneeling half-naked at the feet of a stranger, covered in his own jizz. He tucks himself back into his pants and climbs unsteadily to his feet, blinking, trying to regain his composure as Six speaks again.  
  
"So, obviously you've payed me back and all. But I was thinking, you wanna come with me? I'm headed to Vegas, could use some company..." Boone blinks at him, the words taking a moment to register.  
  
Six bends down and retrieves Boone's shirt from the floor, handing it back to him. He takes it and uses the hem to wipe the remaining semen from his lips before slipping it back on.  
  
"Thanks," he mumbles, feeling slightly better now that he's dressed again. Stepping over to where his rifle lays, he picks it up and checks the clip, checks the bullet in the chamber, before slipping the strap over his shoulder. As he does this, he goes over Six's request in his head. Thinks of waking up tomorrow knowing that Manny's corpse will still be out in front of the Dino, baking in the sun. Something churns in his gut at the thought, that wrong feeling pushing again at his insides.  
  
"Alright," he says, looking back over to Six, who's still watching him with that vague smirk. "Just promise me one thing..." his eyes flicker to where the crumpled paper lies on the floor, feeling anger prickle at his skin as he recalls its traitorous message. "Promise me we'll kill some legionaries along the way."  
  
Something strange passes over Six's face. Concern? Or surprise, maybe? Fair enough, he thinks. But when it passes, he smiles even wider. "Sure thing."

"Good. Then let's get out of here."


End file.
